


custom make us

by mushydesserts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Couch Sex, M/M, Uniform Kink, very awkward clothed sex logistics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 10:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16195901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushydesserts/pseuds/mushydesserts
Summary: Libertus has never been a small guy, but in his head-to-toe newly-pressed black cloth and trappings, he seems to fill the entire room. Or maybe that's just what it feels like, the way he keeps drawing Nyx's gaze to himself like a magnet, like a gravity well standing on the thin rug between the television and the couch trying not to knock his shins into the coffee table.(Libertus and Nyx break in their Kingsglaive uniforms.)





	custom make us

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=8460846#cmt8460846) prompt, written during FFXV RarePairs Week 2018.

"Holy fucking Etro," Libertus says precisely two seconds after the door closes after them.

They stand there alone in the middle of Nyx's tiny apartment, sizing each other up. The dim light through the blinds makes everything glow a little, wavering in the heat; Libertus looks like the heavens have just opened up and spontaneously dumped a shower of gold in front of him. Nyx can't really blame him as he feels kind of like he's just won the lottery himself.

Libertus has never been a small guy, but in his head-to-toe newly-pressed black cloth and trappings, he seems to fill the entire room. Or maybe that's just what it feels like, the way he keeps drawing Nyx's gaze to himself like a magnet, like a gravity well standing on the thin rug between the television and the couch trying not to knock his shins into the coffee table.

Libertus, on the other hand, is looking at Nyx like all the light in the galaxy's just collapsed into a man-shaped being somewhere between the front door and the kitchenette.

"Holy shit," Libertus chokes, amazed.

"Holy shit is right," Nyx breathes, finding his tongue at last. His eyes are still kind of glued to... everywhere, actually, that they can land on Lib; even the face, but he's seen the face before, just — not in this context.

Libertus seems aware, at least, that Nyx is staring at something on him. "The boots?" he says, not bothering to look at his own.

"Right?"

"Oh man. They look fucking amazing on you," Libertus says, executing another disbelieving up-and-down scan.

"They look amazing on you!" And they do, taut criss-cross laces all the way up the calves. Nyx _hopes_ they look half as good on him.

"That's the nicest thing I've seen you wear in — fuck," Libertus says, sounding wounded and disappearing momentarily as he circles around to glimpse Nyx from the back. "How? What?"

Nyx obliges by doing a small wordless rotation on the spot. Libertus reaches out for him mid-twirl with one leather-gloved hand, leather between the knuckles and fingertips, and Nyx makes a noise, an actual noise in his throat, catching his arm to intercept it — and then just sort of — not letting go.

"Are you petting me," Libertus says after a moment.

"What? No," Nyx says, offended, petting Libertus's bicep softly through the coat sleeve. No, yeah. He's still holding on to it.

Libertus gestures directly at Nyx's ass with his free arm, coat tails yanked out of the way. "What the fuck... how are your pants doing this." Libertus pauses. "Can I just. I wanna just like, pour lube all over you, is that okay?"

"No, you can't. This coat is dry-clean only. You know that, right?"

"I wanna rip that coat off and wreck you and I wanna handle you with gloves on so I can submit you to a fuckin' museum," Libertus complains. "Art gallery or something. This is so unfair!"

"I kind of meant to take it off now, but..." Nyx trails off, because nobody would say it's _comfortable,_ but it's a little flattering to be standing here in full garb and looked at like that in private, he'll be honest.

"Well, I'm about to volunteer to take it off for you," Libertus says, flushing.

"That mean you're going to keep yours on?"

Libertus looks dubious. "It's really hot in this."

"I'll say," and Nyx shoves Libertus back on the couch and climbs him, because there is no way Libertus is going to laugh at him right now. He's right, Libertus lets him do it without protest. Nyx presses his tongue into Libertus's mouth and Libertus almost swallows it.

There's almost no accessible bare skin on either of them, and it is the hottest thing that Nyx has ever done — leather cool on his jaw, stiff wool fabric seams pressing into his neck, brass buttons pressing coin-bruises into his chest where their torsos grind together and his fingertips catch on the braiding, metal-and-leather detail clamped tight around his shoulders, good as rope, as leather. Libertus pulls back, mouth wet, when Nyx tries to yank him closer by the shoulder straps.

"You're gonna break something, shit," Libertus slurs.

"I'll be careful."

Nyx tries to sit up and Libertus grabs the back of his head, fingers threaded through his hair, and yanks him back down.

The blood has been moving resolutely towards Nyx's cock since he first saw Libertus in the coat, and now he's stiff underneath the clingy trousers, aching and taut in the groin. When he scrabbles further between them he can tell Libertus is too — hard under the layers of heavy fabric. Libertus moans into Nyx's mouth when Nyx digs his fingers in below his abdomen, kneading alongside the swollen bulge there, and he rakes his hands over Nyx's ass in return, blunt nails biting, like he's trying to tear the cloth off. Libertus's fingers head for Nyx's belt, and Nyx obediently lifts for better access.

"The hell does this belt work," Libertus mutters after half a minute of ineffective fumbling with the loops and buckles.

"It's the same — you're wearing the same thing," Nyx laughs, and Libertus gives him a stinging slap on the rump for it.

Nyx pulls off, finds Libertus's belt, yanks and slides it free. Libertus makes a sound of relief, sits up, and flips them with unreasonable effortlessness, pressing Nyx into the couch. The wooden frame is probably leaving dents in Nyx's elbows, but he doesn't care — Libertus finally unlatches his belt and slides his trousers down just enough to free Nyx, cool air on his skin, his knees still tangled together, boots on.

Nyx tenses as Libertus's fingers ghost over his cock. He tries to shimmy up to meet his grip, but Libertus seems reluctant to give him any friction, probably because he's afraid to catch an edge of the gloves against Nyx's soft skin. Nyx reaches for Libertus's cock in retribution, head hot and sticky and slick already, and closes his hand around it, presses it against his own, bucks up, and Libertus gives up on the half-assed handjob to cling onto Nyx's lapels like he's trying to squeeze the life out of him.

"Fuck, more," Libertus says, voice trembling.

Nyx makes a sound of approval and starts to lever himself up.

Libertus's hand tighten on his chest and pause. "Wait, wait, who goes — who's going first?"

Nyx can't believe — "I don't give a shit. Get in me or get under me. Like, now, come on."

"I can't be in fuckin' two places at once? Choose."

Nyx lets out a breath, rests his head on the back of the couch, stares at the ceiling, trying to think — "In."

"I'm gonna pour lube all over ya," Libertus declares.

Nyx doesn't die drowned in lube that day, but they nearly have about four heart attacks trying to figure out the lube situation without actually taking off the boots or the coats. Once they've got that covered, Libertus gets a bruising elbow to the chin and Nyx narrowly misses getting a black eye as they try to maneuver themselves into a position on the couch that'll work. They wind up with Nyx's legs hitched up over Libertus's shoulders and his trousers up around Libertus' chest, tight enough that he's almost strangled between them.

"If we rip anything the captain is _not_ gonna approve the replacement expenses," Libertus grunts, half-muffled in cloth.

"Worth it," Nyx pants.

Libertus looks like he agrees. "Ready?"

Libertus lines up against his entrance and then enters him with a hysterically smooth single thrust, almost zero prep, which burns the best it has since Nyx was fourteen years old and just discovering porn. Nyx's exhales through his teeth and his fingers find the seams just behind Libertus's shoulder straps, waits for Libertus to settle, and holds on.

The pounding is shockingly short, intense and suffocating, Libertus's body heavy on top of him and thick and full inside him, emanating heat where Nyx is stretched around him, fabric tight across his chest, sweat pouring down his throat and his cock slick on his abdomen from just the dampness of them both. He can feel himself tightening around Libertus already, overwhelmed and spasming, taut every time Libertus brushes something inside him that sends a shudder from his spine to his core. One of Libertus's hands is braced on the couch and the other is on Nyx's shoulder, pulling at his collar and mussing the braids — the air is so hot he feels like he's swimming, lightheaded, Libertus's hips grinding and faltering against the back of his thighs, cock dragging out and slamming back in. Nyx slides his eyes shut and tries to relax, tries to slow his breathing.

"I'm gonna come in like a second," Libertus groans in his ear, which causes Nyx to throw his head back with a shout and seize up in time along with the ache in his belly, and he comes for something like an hour, which causes Libertus to... gods, the couch is gonna need some fucking cleaning.

Their shirts are gonna be a lost cause, he can sense it. Trousers too, maybe.

 

"Are the coats okay," Libertus says once he catches his breath, still half-draped over Nyx and the both of them sliding in a sticky mess off the couch.

Miraculously, they are. "The coats are fine," Nyx says, sliding carefully out of his. He checks his hands, then bundles it up and tosses it aside somewhere safe.

"Thank Etro. Crowe woulda killed us," Libertus says, apparently too exhausted to do anything but flop over on his back.

"Oh yeah," Nyx says, because Crowe had been pleased as hell with her uniform, and she hadn't needed to say anything about it at all, he could see it in her eyes that she had plans — "I bet you Crowe is out making good use of the uniform right about now."

"Don't say that," Libertus moans. Nyx snickers.

As Nyx tries to unstrap his boots, Libertus halts him by catching his ankle in one hand. The light, reverent pressure of his fingers closed around the juncture between his ankle and calf makes Nyx pause.

Libertus looks reluctant. "Gotta shower, or another round?"

Nyx considers, if not for long. "Shower first," he says, because they're getting disgusting, and he's still tired from round one. "Then we talk."

"Boots back on after?" Libertus sounds hopeful.

"Long as you keep the gloves."

"Deal."

 

**Author's Note:**

> ( first posted @ [mushydesserts.tumblr.com](https://mushydesserts.tumblr.com/post/174984690543/)! )


End file.
